I wrote these opinion pieces (both full of spoilers) about two books I found particularly provoking, The Golden Compass and Twilight. FFWD Magazine is no more, so the online links to these artilcles are gone - but the text of the first article is here on this page, below the photos.

Re-reading these pieces in 2016, I think I'd change quite a bit about the way I discussed the books and the issues I had with them. But, I'm putting this here just as an indication of my long-standing interest (not necessarily expertise!) in Young Adult Fiction.

Cat in a Mouse House?‘Anti-religious’ children’s book The Golden Compass not such a threat

Published in Calgary's FFWD Weekly, December 2007

At last everybody’s talking about The Golden Compass. It takes a blockbuster Hollywood movie to get folks to sit up and take notice. Sure, the novels – and now the movie – are relatively controversial. However, cinematic versions of young adult fantasy novels continue to draw fans of all ages, and The Golden Compass had too many of the right ingredients for New Line Cinema to resist: zeppelins, vast northern wastes, epic battles, a magical world in which people’s souls appear as animal “daemons” and, as my boyfriend observed, the irresistible opportunity to film Nicole Kidman spanking her monkey.

I was quietly astonished by Philip Pullman’s trilogy of novels (His Dark Materials). Back when everyone and their Muggle friend was up in arms about the dangerous influence of Harry Potter’s witchcraft on innocent kids everywhere, we weren’t hearing about Pullman, a British writer who told The Washington Post in 2001 that he was “trying to undermine the basis of Christian belief.”

Now they’re talking. Last week, the Calgary Separate School Board, in response to parents’ concerns about the first novel’s “anti-religious” theme, removed The Golden Compass from its schools’ shelves while the novel’s appropriateness is reviewed. Actually, The Golden Compass (both book and movie) doesn’t make too many specific jabs at Christianity. The movie, by changing “church” to “magesterium,” leaves us with a pretty safe good-versus-evil story. How Catholic schools will be able to permit – and how subsequent movies will be able to gloss over – overt criticisms in the subsequent books will be trickier. Examples of what’s coming (beware, spoilers to follow!):

Near the end of the third novel, The Amber Spyglass, protagonists Lyra and Will, welcomed by an ex-nun whose task is to “play the serpent,” wander into a garden, nibble on a little red fruit and have underage sex (we don’t know that for sure, but it’s implied). Even if we disregard the implications of their actions on the plot of the story (they bring about the second “fall” of humankind), the symbolism alone might be a wee bit controversial for a family movie. Were they just planning to leave this part out?

Lyra and Will also kill God (whom Pullman calls “the Authority”) – albeit accidentally. The Authority is an angel who’s so old that the children are portrayed as putting him out of his misery. Pullman describes the Authority: “Demented and powerless, the aged being could only weep and mumble in fear and pain and misery... having no will of his own...” (Pullman can’t resist that little dig). The ancient angel expires with “a sigh of the most profound and exhausted relief.” This happens almost in passing, with neither of the children realizing what they’ve done. Pullman’s treatment of this event bespeaks the significance he attributes to it: it’s a trifle, long overdue, completely unimportant. From that perspective, it’s a minor event that could be left out of a movie – but in terms of its significance to the overall story, that would be like leaving out the “minor event” of Luke blowing up the Death Star.

Pullman isn’t satisfied with insinuating that real religions are ill-founded by creating an imaginary, flawed religion in a parallel universe. If he had, real religions would be hard-pressed to find fault with him. Instead, he’s quite specific, not to mention downright preachy. Pullman’s character Mary Malone is talking about our world when she tells Lyra and Will: “I used to be a nun, you see. I thought physics could be done to the glory of God, till I saw that there wasn’t any God at all and that physics was more interesting anyway. The Christian religion is a very powerful and convincing mistake, that’s all.”

This brings us to the second baffling thing about Pullman’s work: his writing receives so much acclaim. Although Pullman is a highly skilled writer, his trilogy contains the kind of heavy-handed agenda-plugging you don’t usually find in books that are considered “good” literature.

Usually, good writers wait for fans and critics to find “messages” on their own time. Authors who lump didactic messages between the lines of their work usually don’t win prizes. The Celestine Prophecy didn’t win any literary awards (I hope), but if you take away the Carnegie Medal, what’s the difference between Pullman’s scheme and James Redfield’s? Next to Pullman’s hit-you-over-the-head symbolism, even C. S. Lewis’s Narnia books are delicately crafted stories into which the symbolism simply melts like the purest snow.

Fans of Pullman’s writing argue that the brilliantly creative and complex plot overshadows any hidden, or not-so-hidden, agenda. Indeed, it does cleverly cloak it. However, the books are positively soaked in religious symbolism.

For the record, I’m a fan of Pullman’s humanist perspective. The more books drawing attention to those aspects of organized religion that are a lot of hogwash, the better. I like his message. The literary critic in me, however, is appalled by the way he delivers that message. Don’t get me wrong – I like these books. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say, as Pullman says of Lyra: “[she] watched the game with puzzlement and respect. There were all sorts of things going on beneath it...”

However, the debate about whether it’s a good book - a well-written book – is not what the Calgary Separate School Board is concerned with. Its question is whether this book should be available as a learning resource for students. One thing is for certain: whenever a school board bans a book, it will fulfill Pullman’s expectations of religious institutions and make his message ring all the more true. A friend suggested that a Catholic school that opened its doors to The Golden Compass would be like a mouse inviting a cat over for dinner. I don’t know about that, but if I were a mouse, I’d want plenty of books about cats in my school libraries so that my mice children could grow up to be informed, open-minded, authority-questioning little souls. Either the Authority will be able to handle that, or he won’t.